


Divergent Parallel

by Accuni



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: A little, Biting, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Light Angst, M/M, POV switches a bit, PWP, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, there’s some plot but it’s canon stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accuni/pseuds/Accuni
Summary: Noticing something about a long-time rival can go one of two different ways.





	Divergent Parallel

The first time it was brought to attention was during their closest fight, in the most heated time of the war.

Hell’s Point.

They were rushing at each other, constantly clashing back toward the other again and again, the fighting never seeming to end, neither of them yielding.

It started over that damned generator, but it quickly turned to _their fight_. It always did once the two greats met on the battlefield. This was most intense one on both fronts yet.

As Megatron and Prime lunged at each other in an almost artful way, the mech surrounding them stopped momentarily to watch the two raging leaders go at it. But as a particularly harsh hit would land, their fighting would become erratic and unpracticed again, all sense was thrown to the side once they got close. It was brutal and it was merciless.

At some point after carefully dodging a few shots from the ion blaster, Megatron had sidestepped and found his opening. With a heavy swing of his arm, he was smashing the scorching weaponized attachment right into Prime’s face plates. The spikes of the energon mace had pierced his battle mask, smashing through the metal and splintering it. Prime had immediately stumbled back, roaring and shaken from the hit. Megatron stood in front of his enemy, stance showing he was ready to beat him into the ground at any moment and end it all.

Prime looked up at him then, optics absolutely blazing with the most hate and rage he’d seen since the war started. He didn’t even seem affected by the pain- and his face plates were mangled _bad_.

Half the Prime’s face plating was torn, the intricate mechanisms underneath able to be seen, and was steadily dripping energon onto the scorched ground. It was a grotesque picture and Megatron was filled with _pride_.

Megatron readied his mace arm, intending to strike again, the urge to batter the Prime’s face rising more and more each second as his enemy contemplated the next move.

Before he could take the advantage, Optimus was already throwing his gun down and making to tackle him. He got to an arm’s length away before Megatron reacted quickly and was grabbing a blue hand to stop his advance. The hilt of the energon mace was pressed up against the Prime’s neck, hot energy searing into the cables.

Prime yelled, pushing with all his strength against his opponent, but that arm was stopping him. He very much snarled, face torn into as much of an angered grimace as he could make it with the injuries. Megatron was pushing with his upper body, gripping that hand fiercely, threatening to bend the metal and struts backward.

“ _Yield NOW, Prime!”_

“ _Never, Megatron! Not while you’re still functioning!!!”_ the Prime had a fury to match Megatron’s own. His shredded and bloody lips drew back in a snarl, showing unharmed denta, the outer ones visibly sharp. He looked absolutely wild, poised like a beast in their grapple.

Megatron only smirked at his adversary’s aggression, a new fire ignited in their fight. So he wanted to play _savage_? No more formal dancing around the enemy?

He released Optimus from his hold, elbowing him in the torso and kicking him down and away. The energon mace was deactivated, claws coming out instead.

Optimus was staggering back up in a fighter’s stance, ready to go again, when Megatron was lunging at him full force.

 

* * *

 

The second time Megatron witnessed it, the reason was completely different.

There was no violence, no bloodshed. Just newfound emotions rising to the surface, heat curling from the brink of disaster. They found themselves in a room on the Lost Light after the near catastrophe that was _Shockwave_ , overlooking the freshly ravaged areas of Cybertron, the titan in the horizon.

“Are you serious about this?” Optimus had asked him. “Back there, when you put on Bumblebee’s badge, you said…”

“I promise you, this is not a trick-” Megatron stopped him before that Autobot virtue could ruin the quiet any more. It could be exceptionally deafening.

Except, now he was an Autobot too, by drastic choice.

Prime was quiet for a moment, his faceplates obscured in shadow. His voice was a dreadfully low rumble, “I don’t know if that makes things more or less complicated.” he sounded tired, very tired.

There was no noise from outside, though many mech were moving about, resettling as much as they could after the near destruction. All far away from the moment shared in this room.

And that room felt extremely small with Megatron there, in the darkness and silence.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated, Prime. You’re always dealing in absolutes- our world at this point is far beyond the prospect of that.” Megatron’s crimson stare was harsh, the colors accentuating his new badge. Optimus found he couldn’t read that expression.

 _Primus,_ this was a mess. Everything was a mess. All the lines and borders now blurred did not suit Optimus’ way of thinking. He couldn’t focus on anything at the moment, anything but his long-time rival. On _Megatron_.

It was unbelievable. He could already hear every protest, every outcry over the new alliance.

It was too late, too much had been done.

And yet... a small part of Optimus was enthused that Megatron chose this, that he joined his side. It was what he’d wanted since before the war. There were millions of technicalities, and Optimus knew in his spark that nothing Megatron could _ever_ do would make up for everything during the war, and he _did_ hate the mech he was then, but the fresh wave of long-buried emotion this brought was too much not to act on. It was already an awful cycle of _guilt and hope and regret and promise._

Again, that small, selfish part of Optimus’ spark strained to overcome his logic and sensible thought. He owed himself this one thing.

 

He found himself stepping close to Megatron, placing a blue hand on that badge before he could even stop. The badge was still vibrant- _a beacon of hope_ , his processor wanted to say. Optimus wouldn’t let it carry him but maybe just this once. He didn’t know how much time Megatron would have left now…

Optimus rumbled inquisitively, leaning ever closer and making optic contact.

“It will _always_ be complicated. Do not fool yourself, old friend.” his thumb was stroking the metal in the most minute movements. He thought he felt Megatron’s chassis vibrating under the soft ministrations. “But for now-”

“ _For now_ ,” Megatron interrupted, sounding thoughtful, but hard. “we answer some questions, before facing the world.” And Megatron was grasping the back of his helm, almost gently pushing him towards a wall. Optimus raised an optic ridge.

“Mm, and what answers are you looking for?”

Megatron gave a wry laugh, hoping he was reading the atmosphere correctly. He barely felt Optimus’ controlled field, a fiery tingle on the edge of his. A mystery in a casual setting.

He pulled the others’ helm even closer, mouth near an audial.

“Answers to long, unspoken truths.”

 

An aggressive rev of his engine, and Optimus was flipping them, bodily pressing his enemy- no, ally- up against the wall. The immediate heat he was met with sent a painfully melancholy jolt to his spark. They could have had this so long ago, so much could have been different. But there was too many wrongs in between to salvage, it would never feel how it would have felt before the war, before all the aggression and animosity.

All they had was _now_ , no matter how much of a mess it was, and Primus only knows how much long after. The estimates weren’t positive.

But Megatron was an Autobot now, he was _one of his_. The selfish and possessive part of Optimus’ processor reared itself again, and he rode it.

Optimus let himself groan, and buried his face near the junction of Megatron’s neck, just feeling the heat and the raw emotion slowly seeping from them both. Megatron’s hands were already pressing and stroking at his back plates, the heavy sensation growing with each moment.

Megatron’s voice was almost muffled this close. “They won’t let us hide in here forever, Optimus.”

He knew that was it, that was the final admission.

Optimus let his mask slide back, face still hidden against Megatron’s neck. He breathed in the hot, charged atmosphere, and something new- something _Megatron._ With another low groan, he was pressing lip plates against those dark neck cables, glossa coming out immediately to taste the heady traces of laser fire and battle heat. It was intoxicating to his sensors, Optimus’ processor muddling itself at an increasingly fast pace as he lapped at the others’ neck, sucking a cable into his mouth. How many times had he thought about this, ashamed, when their fighting got a little too close? How it would’ve been so easy to shock him out of the grappling… and most likely earn a punch to the face in the process.

Megatron was his now, was a part of his life in an entirely different way than he was the last 6 million years. It was terrifying and still unbelievable, but if he truly was genuine… Optimus would let himself feel hope. Maybe the future of Cybertron did have a positive outcome, maybe their race wasn’t doomed to live in conflict forever. It all registered as unknown emotions, too strange and unfitting to fully embed themselves in his processor. Optimus felt himself heating even more, and he was moving fast. He brought a hand up to roughly cup Megatron’s jaw, not caring if it was still a dangerous move. His need was growing, he wouldn’t let this moment go to waste.

“Megatron, I-” but he cut himself off quickly, deciding words didn’t matter then, harshly slotting his mouth against the other’s in a crude kiss. Megatron was responding immediately, had both hands holding on to Optimus’ helm as if he could bring him ever closer, strong frames rumbling against each other. Their mouths were hot, the wet slide of glossa only interrupted by the clashing of their denta.

The years of pent up tension were slowly coming undone, unraveling in the form of their needy touches, those grabbing hands.

Optimus’ free hand was sliding to the small of Megatron’s back, using the leverage to push his hips closer. When their panels met, Megatron was the one to gasp, breaking the kiss. They vented hot air against the other’s intake in the pause, optics locked and _questioning_.

“You’ve wanted this…” Megatron was sliding a dark hand down his flank, grabbing at a hip. “and you wouldn’t let yourself interface a Decepticon, would you?”

Optimus didn’t answer, and he took to mouthing at the edge of Megatron’s helm, barely nipping the grey metal. His spark was going wild in his chassis, too many conflicting thoughts driving him forward and pulling him back at the same time. It was true. Even if they’d called a ceasefire, or if both of them succumbed to the aggression...Optimus felt that the mech he was during the war wouldn’t have allowed himself even that. It would be losing in a way, he was sure.

“-but I’m an Autobot now, aren’t I?” Megatron said quietly, jerking Optimus out of his thoughts. He could hear the smirk in Megatron’s voice.

“ _Yes_ ,” Optimus exvented, grasping hastily for the other’s helm again and bringing them level. “Yes, you’re an Autobot now, Megatron-” he was diving back into that mouth, glossa demanding. Megatron let him, pulled him back against his frame once again. He was so revved up, he wasn’t sure if he could stop if they were called to leave. “All I ever wanted was this,” Optimus admitted, “before the war, before everything. And I can’t stop now.”

Megatron smiled in a devious way, just returning to that addictive kissing. He gave as good as he got, though not as demanding. He let Optimus have this, knew his need.

Optimus sucked his glossa, pressing his chassis harder against the other so that their plating creaked. He felt Megatron’s leg raise so that their pelvises ground together just a bit more, the metal already hot and searing to the touch. Optimus had never felt such heat in his life, such an itching need to claim. A thought was forming and being put to action before he could stop himself.

He still held Megatron’s helm firm, and pulled back a little so his denta grazed his lips. Megatron stalled for the light touch, and the almost chaste kiss. Optimus was mouthing his bottom lip, and in a quick moment, was sinking his denta- _sharp denta_ \- in and puncturing it with a bite. Megatron gasped, not from the pain, he’d been in pain the whole cycle. A bolt of fire and pleasure to his lines; he remembered those sharp denta from years ago, had forgotten until now.

Optimus sucked his lip, grazing a sharp fang against the wound and moving back up to bring their mouths together again. The energon on his tangling glossa had Megatron’s engine turning over and rumbling as hard as it could. It was so _un-Autobot,_ so carnal and heady, the shock of it had his panel snapping open of its own accord.

“I want you,” Optimus gasped out as his felt the wet heat against his thigh. “I want _you_ , Megatron.”

The logic of the situation had been blown out the airlock long ago and nothing mattered beyond the point right then and there.

The hard pressure against his valve had Megatron groaning. Optimus was grinding his freed spike against him, mouth back at his neck. Those denta were grazing his cables, and he _should_ have felt threatened, but it only added to his arousal. He had no idea the Prime could let go like this. It was, admittedly, intoxicating.

Everything happened so quick, Megatron barely heard himself rasp out _please_ before he was turned and his chassis pressed up against the wall with a none too quiet screech of metal. He didn’t care. He didn’t care one bit, this was _too good._

Megatron had thought if he ever fragged Optimus, he’d have to work his way up to getting him to be rough. He’d assume that Autobot courtesy was carried with him to the berthroom. But this… this was far better than he expected.

There were strong fingers thrusting in his valve and Megatron was gritting his teeth, already quickly on the way to overload from the intensity of it all. Gods, the Prime knew what he was doing. He was taking care to hit every charged node, rubbing his exterior one in rhythm with the same hand as well. It was almost as if the need to pleasure him only was Optimus’ drive, like he was claiming the right to be the only one touching him. Megatron didn’t want to let himself fall to those thoughts, he wasn’t ready for it yet.

“Megatron…” he felt the Prime was moaning against his neck, hyper aware of the proximity of those denta now, every moment wondering if he’d feel them again.

“Are you going to take me, Prime?” was a half-hearted jab. “We certainly don’t have all cycle.”

Truth was, Megatron didn’t know how long he’d last. He wished they’d draw it out, frag through all those years of tension. But reality was harsher and he knew this would be the one and only chance. It was worth it.

“Yes, yes just let me-” Optimus was still wriggling those fingers, feeling him out. “I want to make this good.” Megatron could feel him grinding his spike against his inner thigh. Needy.

Megatron’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, “It’ll feel better once you frag me, Prime.”

 

Like a switch was flipped, everything was suddenly going too fast again. Or maybe they’d been going fast the whole time, Megatron had no idea how long they’d already spent in this room.

Optimus was turning his helm for another deep kiss, making sure to flick his glossa against the small cut on Megatron’s lip plate, venting hard in reaction to the fresh energon that welled up.

Some time ago he’d be excited to spill Megatron’s energon, cause a few injuries. It was different now.

The fingers in Megatron’s valve were gone suddenly, but he could feel them brushing the back of his thighs.

Optimus broke the kiss with a whine. “Do you want it, Megatron? Do you want this?” It meant more than just their interfacing, he knew. Megatron could feel the movement of him stroking himself, feel the heavy hand on his chest, over the Autobot badge, pressing their burning chassis together. Everything in this shared moment felt like a dream, yet if he snapped back to reality, it felt _too_ real.

“Do you want this?” Optimus repeated, voice a low growl.

“Yes,” Megatron whispered, braced his arms against the wall, closing his optics and fingers clenching hard enough to creak “yes, always, Prime.” and in an instant, Optimus was pushing up further against him, inching his pedes apart, the blunt tip of his spike nudging apart the lips of Megatron’s valve, pushing in with restrained urgency. Megatron let himself moan at the feeling, way too exposed, too open to his rival. He was giving so much then, offering his alliance and his body. He wanted it, it scared him that this felt _right_. Megatron told himself it was the fragging. There was still that deep-seated aggression and he knew this wouldn’t be an easy transition. Even now, Prime’s spike inching into him, he fought those conflicted feelings surging to the front of his processor- all those feelings of dread because, of course, they’d both have to deal with the fallout of this later.

Thoughts muddled by the feeling of Optimus bottoming out in him, wide spike pressing against all the sensors in his valve, all Megatron could do was rest his helm against the wall and focus his venting and just feel the moment. Optimus did have a way of taking his mind off everything but him.

In a moment, he was moving, igniting a new fire between them. Prime’s hands were holding his hips steady, grinding his own in a gradually increasing pace. Megatron knew he was holding back, but when he tried to move on his own, those hands tightened, stopping the movement, _controlling_.

A hand traveled back up, sliding up and gently placing around Megatron’s neck. No pressure, but still a bold move. Megatron could feel his fingers twitch with the unspent charge, and his venting still hot on the back of his neck.

Prime was letting go now, his thrusts coming hard and fast, no sound in the room besides their engines running at max from the tension and strain. If any words were fitting, Megatron wouldn’t be able to focus his processor long enough, the spike in him blanking any thoughts. Only a quiet _oh_ punched out of his vocalizer once the Prime hit a desperate speed that rocked their frames hard against each other. Optimus grasped at a grey thigh, pulling it up and forward so he could get even closer, grind their arrays even harder. The pressure had Megatron gouging his fingers into the surface of the wall. All he could do was just hold on as Optimus pounded him into the surface. It was painfully _good_.

Optimus was wild, panting against Megatron’s neck as he slowed his thrusts a bit.

“ _Megatron_ ,” he moaned through static. “ _you feel so good...I’m close._ ” he grimaced, trying to stave off the need, and was pulling their helms together, taking a moment to press his glossa against that punctured lip again. Megatron felt those denta against his sensitive plating, and he involuntarily clenched down, feeling himself lubricate more. He wondered if the Prime knew just how much that feature appealed to Decepticon nature. Or maybe he did know, thus another reason to keep his face hidden.

The atmosphere was hot, charge growing heavy. Still invading his mouth, kissing hard and sloppy, Optimus picked up his original pace, thrusting with meaning- like it was the last time he’d get to do it. _Most likely it was._ A heavy puncturing thrust had Megatron arching his back struts as much as he could, moan swallowed by his counterpart.

Not faltering in his movements, Optimus drew back to look Megatron in the optics. His expression told complete abandon, drunk on his lust and _possessive._

“Megatron, please... tell me what you need.” he panted out. Megatron still couldn’t speak, but he subconsciously flicked his gaze down to Prime’s mouth and back up, flushing. It took a moment, but once it clicked in his processor, Optimus’ optics widened, his engine giving the most aggressive growl yet.

His pace became frantic then, grip on Megatron’s thigh squeezing hard. The hand on on Megatron’s helm drifted back down to his pelvis, and he felt those thick fingers circling and rubbing his outer node.

Megatron cried out at the pure physical attention, twitching his hips madly in a race to overload.

Optimus was keening against his neck, murmuring intermittent jumbles of _yes, yes_ and _come on_.

From then on it was just a desperate clashing of their frames, the hard sounds reverberating in their audials. Megatron felt like he was losing himself, every line and component dedicated to each point of pleasure as his once rival touched him, fucked him.

He knew Optimus could tell he was close, bearing down and into him even harder then. At the moment the charge was gathering dangerously fast in his gut, and Megatron was gasping out each breath, Prime did it. It was a flash of a moment but he’d sunk those denta into the thick cables of Megatron’s neck and shoulder plating. Megatron’s vision was white as he jerked, and immediately overloaded, hard.

Optimus whined at the clench around his spike, teeth still pierced into the cables. The small beads of energon from the punctures had his processor reeling, and in a few more short thrusts and a slow grind, his spike was twitching, and overloading into the heat of his partner.

 

Coming down was almost dangerous, the crash of reality and the moment was loud. But Megatron felt calm.

He was slowly coming back to himself as he felt Prime ease his spike out, along with the teeth on his neck. He felt wet and more disheveled than even after dealing with the near end of the universe. Prime’s words from earlier started echoing in his mind, _I don’t know if this makes things more or less complicated_.

They’d just have to find out. The world was already a confusing mess the moment Megatron was released from his captivity by long-dead mechs.

Laving over the cuts with his glossa, Optimus quietly hummed an appreciative noise that Megatron was sure wasn’t meant to be out loud. There was a hand subconsciously rubbing his chest again, over the insignia in the middle. “I’m sorry that our time is short,” Optimus murmured, almost reluctantly withdrawing his frame. “But this…”

Megatron straightened his back struts, a fresh wave of sensation adding onto his already battered body. He held up a hand, his stare becoming hard and professional again, though his next words were soft. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he found hard to utter. “The rest of the world is our focus now.”

Optimus was still close, but that usual stoic attitude was making its way back to him. Though Megatron caught him glancing at his lips, as if contemplating another kiss. The moment hung, and with a sigh, Megatron was gently pulling his helm back to his own, connecting them in a final chaste kiss. Though he was pulling away quickly, turning from the temptation of more pleasure. There were larger concerns.

There were things that probably needed to be said, to clear the atmosphere, but nothing came to mind. What was there to say? _Thank you?_ Megatron was striding toward the door, not wanting to waste any more awkward time, and he looked back at Optimus. He seemed...lost, clearly thinking to himself as he tried to make sure his frame was presentable. It wouldn’t be wrong to assume he was conflicted, perhaps not by their tryst, but the implications. Everything in the Prime’s life has been consistent with his values, or an absolute in challenging them. When he couldn’t place a situation on one side or the other, the dissonance was challenging. Megatron knew about impulse, and he deemed what just happened as a completely rash impulse decision from the Prime, no matter what he said prior. However, it didn’t mean this was regrettable.

The Prime exvented, shifting his plating in the way Megatron knew from years of frustration that meant he was bothered. There wasn’t much that could be done at the moment.

Megatron held the door for him as they shuffled out from the room to exit the _Lost Light_ . But  Optimus was stopping him with a firm hand on his arm in the corridor before leaving. “Megatron,” His face looked almost pained. _Perhaps they should have talked a bit_.

“I know people can change. I know… the world will be much different for us now. At the moment I can’t speak for what the public will want to do with you, but I assure you that treatment will be.. _rational_.” he paused, the grip on Megatron’s arm dropping. “Even from myself.”

Megatron held his gaze steady. He appreciated this; it meant the Prime was back to himself, that their _meeting_ didn’t change anything. As it should be. And Megatron wouldn’t want any different treatment. None of what just happened would yet change his attitude- the war had just ended, and on a bad note for some of them. There just wasn’t room for skirting the edges of morals now, _especially now_. Society- what existed of it- was just too fragile still.

“Yes, of course. I expect nothing different.”

Prime ran a hand over his helm. He seemed tired again. “It’s not over. There will never be an end to the struggle,” it was a calm reiteration of Shockwave’s statement earlier. “but I only hope the best for us- I mean _Cybertron_. Returning here after what I’d caused to the planet was not easy, it still won’t be taken lightly by any mech. But I hold my values now, as always, and that’s all I ask of anyone at this point. To create a better future for our planet, to not revisit the past.”

Megatron knew what he meant, what he was implying by it.

“You know me, of all mech, holds true to his ideals, Prime.”

Optimus nodded.

It was only the beginning.

Megatron thought for a moment. “...given that this may be our last conversation for a very long time, a question of my own,”

He tried to choose his next words wisely. “After all Shockwave did- not just _now_ , with the ores and Nova and the Titan, but throughout the war… were you _really_ able to look beyond all that and recognize him as your friend?”

Optimus’ faceplated creased behind that mask- he was probably frowning in thought. “Does it matter?” he answered.

“If it didn’t, I wouldn’t ask.”

Optimus sighed and turned slightly, a hand on the door. When Megatron looked at him again, his optics seemed brighter.

“Then you already know my answer.”

And that hit Megatron harder than any laser blast. They had their faults still, no matter what had just happened. The animosity still held from after the war would take a while to burn through, no doubt. But hearing this… Megatron could almost believe the Prime’s sentiments about _hope_.

He was in not in any way expecting things to come easily into place in the future, but at least it was certain that things _will_ _change for the better._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to write something with Optimus having sharp teeth, and also liked the idea of him being a little needy/possessive after a friend mentioned it, what can I say... a man's gotta write out a hasty pwp when he can.  
> //  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/baddigital)


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